My Life As A Camden
by curlysara26
Summary: Tragedy strikes the Camden family. Can Ruthie cope with what has happened, or will she need a strong shoulder to lean on? Future fic.
1. The LA Scene

Disclaimer: No I do not own 7th Heaven or anything pertaining to the show.

Spoilers: This story is set in the future, and will, therefore, make mention of current and past episodes of 7th Heaven.

Author's Note: This is just a story that I have had bouncing around in my head for awhile and that I am now just putting onto paper. I hope you all enjoy it.

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My Life As A Camden

Chapter One

The LA traffic eased slowly down the crowded street as the sun beat down on the pedestrians making their way along the sidewalks. People of all colors, shapes, and sizes walked the sidewalk in front of the small outdoor café. Ruthie Camden shifted her sunglasses up her nose and sipped her Mocha Latte as she watched the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. Her laptop sat on the metal table in front of her, open, its blank screen seemingly mocking her, reminding her that she had yet to start her newest book, which was due in only eight short months.

It wasn't her fault that she couldn't think of what to write about, was it? Her editor was too demanding, asking her to move from what Ruthie normally wrote about. Sandra didn't want the normal romance novel, which Ruthie could knock out in two or three months. No, she wanted something that everybody, from the youngest reader to the oldest, could enjoy and connect with. No more 'mindless rubble' as she liked to refer to Ruthie's previous work.

Sighing, Ruthie slammed her laptop shut. Perhaps if she didn't feel as if the blank screen were watching her she would be able to come up with some sort of idea. She sat back in her chair and watched the people that passed by.

They were your normal bunch of skater punks, freaks, preps, trust fund babies armed with shopping bags and a cell-phone, and, sometimes, an actual normal person. Ruthie watched them, studied them, tried to imagine what their lives were really like. Take the gothic chick with the blood red, spiky hair, wearing the combat boots, ripped stockings, black leather skirt with metal chains, and the black see through shirt that let you have a good look at her red bra, which matched her hair, underneath. What was her life really like? Maybe she was from a wealthy family and had attended boarding school in Europe for most of her life before becoming a rebellious teen and striking out against authority, which got her expelled from said boarding school and now her parents didn't know what to do with her. Or what about the chic woman with all designer clothing on, shopping bags in each hand and a cell-phone against her ear, what was her story? Was she really as well off as she made everybody believe, or was her husband having financial problems and she was simply trying to hold on to the life she might yet lose?

People fascinated Ruthie, and, perhaps, they fascinated others just enough to have them be interested in a book about someone just like themselves. With a triumphant smile, Ruthie flipped her laptop back open and began to type.

_

* * *

I grew up in a large family - seven kids to be exact. Many people asked my parents how they did it, or why they chose to have such a large family. My parents didn't plan it, it just happened. We were all very close, my siblings were my best friends, and I could talk with them, or my parents, about anything that was on my mind. But a large family does have its drawbacks. I was the youngest girl and, with two older brothers and two older sisters, I received the brunt of their protectiveness. Especially when I started dating. But I was happy with my family, and I never would have traded them in for anything.

* * *

Ruthie sat back and surveyed the opening paragraph. It was decent, not at all like the openings to her numerous other books, but still it was good. She took another sip of her latte and pursed her lips. Where was she going to go with this? She didn't exactly have a direction in which to take it, the book was just about her, her life as a Camden. Were people really going to be interested in reading about the daughter of a minister? Ruthie didn't want to think about that right then. She had a job to do._

* * *

_My father was a minister at a relatively large church in Glenoak, California. Everybody loved him. He was always ready and willing to help, even when the people were not parishioners of his church. He was a great minister, a loving husband, and a terrific father. _

My mother, well she was the back bone of our family, the one to keep everything running smoothly and efficiently. She was head over heels for my father, and the two of them would sometimes make my siblings and me sick with how lovey-dovey they would get. Always she had a million errands to run and things to do, but, no matter how busy, she always made time for her family.

My oldest brother was Matt. He was wild as a teen, but now has grown up and is married with a son of his own. If there's one thing that I could say about Matt, it's how he was always there when any one of his brothers or sisters needed him. He wasn't afraid to stick his neck out for you, to protect you no matter the cost. He was one of the best brothers any girl could ask for, and I am lucky that he was mine.

Mary is the second oldest in our happy family, and the one who most often got herself into trouble. She's hardheaded and stubborn, and always going from one mess to the other, but she's always there, always ready to help you when she can. She was married once, and had a son, but Mary never was one who could settle down. Always she had to be on the move, going from one thing to the other. I think that's one of the reasons why she chose to be a flight attendant.

Lucy, what can you say about her? When she was a teen, Lucy was one of those girls that had_ to have a boyfriend. She wasn't happy being single, she needed to have plans every weekend to go out with a boy. My siblings and I even nicknamed her the Make-out Queen because she was always attached at the lips to one boy or another. She's happily married now, with a daughter and another baby on the way. Lucy's content now. She's a wife, a mother, and a minister, all the things she ever wanted to be. _

Simon is the fourth in our happy family. I think it's safe to say that he was the only Camden to ever break the rule "No sex before marriage". Yes, that is Simon's legacy in this family. But he's a good brother, always watching out for everybody, always putting other people's happiness above his own. Sometimes I wonder if he truly is happy with the life that he leads. Sometimes, I think that he wishes he had _waited until marriage to be with that one special person. I guess we'll never know though, seeing as Simon never talks to anyone in the family. He's ostracized himself from us all, choosing to completely disappear from our lives instead of putting up with the questions that mom and dad continually throw at him about his life. I miss him a lot. He and I were once close, now I don't even know where he is. _

The twins, Sam and David, are the youngest of our family. I was nine when they were born, and they were hard to get used to at first. Born on Valentine's Day, they sort of get jipped when it comes to birthday parties and celebrations. I remember that on their first birthday, nobody wanted to celebrate, they just wanted to go about their Valentine's Day and be with their dates and all that, I also remember that I gave them both a raw egg. A little big sister jealousy thing, one that I won't get into right now. Looking back on it now, I felt sorry for my brothers. They didn't know what was going on, but mom certainly didn't appreciate everybody blowing them off. They're in their teens now, and two of the greatest guys I know. They are certainly going to be heartbreakers once mom and dad let them date.

* * *

Ruthie saved all that she had written and turned off her computer. She had a feeling that this book was going to be one of her best, she just wasn't certain how her family would feel about her putting their lives on display. But it wasn't that they weren't already on show for everybody to see. That's the life you live when you're the child of Eric Camden. Ruthie cracked a smile, yes, she certainly would bring out all of her family's dirt on this one. Her publishers were bound to eat it up.

* * *

Alright, so this first chapter was a bit short, but I promise that I'll try and make the next one a bit longer. I'm not certain how often I'll update this, but I'll try and do my best to get out an update every other week. Please review and tell me what you all think. 


	2. Going Home

Wow, I can't believe how long it's been since I updated this story. I hope you guys will forgive me. Here's the new chapter, I hope it's worth the wait.

Chapter Two

The pungent aroma of coffee filled the small apartment. Ruthie sipped the hot brew from her favorite cup; a burnt orange latte mug. Her eyes scanned the empty laptop page.

Completely blank, the page seemed to mock her. She'd been on a roll the past few days, but now- the day before the big meeting with her editors about whether or not her new book was a good idea- she was stuck.

It wasn't like Ruthie didn't know what to write about. Far from it actually. There were so many ideas flooding her brain that Ruthie had trouble sorting them to where they made sense.

The phone rang, breaking through the swarm of thoughts buzzing around in her mind. She reached for the cordless phone absentmindedly.

"Hello?" She said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey babe." Ruthie tensed slightly.

"Mac, hey." She fidgeted on the couch and sat the laptop down on the coffee table in front of her.

"I just got back in town and thought we could get together." Mac said. Ruthie's mind was reeling.

"I thought we broke up two weeks ago." She said sternly. Even though she'd dumped him, Mac had continued to call, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah, we did." Was it just her imagination, or was he…laughing.

"And that break up still stands." Ruthie was quickly growing annoyed.

"You're serious?" The laughing had stopped.

"Yes, I am."

"But I thought that that was just one of those things we do, you know. Where you pretend to be mad about something I did then I buy you flowers and take you out somewhere nice and everything's fine again."

"You cheated on me, Mac!" She cried, shocked that he was acting like _he'd_ been the one to get hurt.

"I told you that was a mistake." He argued.

"I don't want to hear it." Ruthie shook her head. "I'm tired of your excuses, Mac. We're finished and that's final. So stop calling me." She hung up, not giving him a chance to say anything more.

With a sigh, she leaned back in to the couch, letting it conform to her body. She ran a hand through her hair. The thoughts and emotions that had been flooding over her seeped away slowly. A tremendous weight seemed to have lifted off her shoulders and Ruthie felt a thousand pounds lighter.

Feeling suddenly very tired, she lied down on the couch and closed her eyes. Fighting and standing her ground always seemed to drain her of energy.

La Cucaracha interrupted the light sleep that she had fallen into. She reached for her cell phone blindly- her eyes still closed- and clicked it on.

"Mac, I told you, stop calling me." She said.

"Ruthie?" It was her mom, and she sounded like she'd been crying. Ruthie was instantly awake.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"You need to come home."

"Why? What's going on?" She was worried now. Her mom sounded so distant.

"It's your dad," Annie's voice became choked with tears. "He…Ruthie, he died this morning."

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the leaves and cast warm sunshine upon the tree-lined street. The road snaked in front of Ruthie, the twists and turns as familiar as the back of her hands.

The house loomed large in front of her. The home of her childhood, the place where every milestone in her life had either happened or been celebrated.

Ruthie pulled up alongside the curb. Cutting the engine, she closed her eyes and allowed a single, solitary tear to roll down her cheek.

Dead. The word was like an avalanche; falling over her, suffocating her. Her father couldn't be dead. He was still in his mid-fifties. That was too young to die. Wasn't it?

Eric Camden was larger than life, larger than death. Nothing could touch him. He was the rock of the community, the minister, the guy that everybody came to for help. He couldn't be dead.

Wiping the tear away, Ruthie climbed out of the car and walked up the familiar steps to the front door.

She hadn't been home in a year. Guilt overwhelmed her. Maybe if she had been home more often, if she had helped out more when she knew that her dad's health was starting to go down hill. The "what ifs" flooded her, burying her beneath their weight. Another tear escaped, unbidden. Ruthie shook her head. Her dad would want her to be strong. He wouldn't want her to mourn his death, but rather celebrate the life he now led in Heaven.

But that was so much easier said than done.

Trembling slightly, Ruthie reached out and twisted the doorknob. The door swung open easily and she walked inside, the two bags she'd brought with her bumping gently against her legs.

"Hello?" She called, her voice echoing through the house. "Is anybody home?"

The only reply was Happy, their dog, running down the stairs to greet her with an exuberant bark.

"Hey girl." Ruthie knelt down and patted the dog's head. "Where is everybody?" Happy simply wagged her tail in response.

* * *

It had been awhile since he'd last visited the Camdens, and he hated that his latest visit had to be under such circumstances.

Martin pulled up in front of the house where he had lived, being treated like one of the family, for almost two years. Even after his father had come home from Iraq, the Camden's house still felt like more of a home than the house his dad had bought upon his return.

Climbing out of his car, Martin noticed a cherry red Mustang sitting in front of the house already. Glancing at it curiously, Martin headed up towards the house, ready to see the people who had been like his family.

He nearly ran into a stooped figure when he walked inside.

"Oh, I'm sorr…" His words were cut off when the figure stood and turned to face him. "Ruthie?" Her face split in a grin when her eyes caught his.

"Martin," she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, "I'm so glad to see you."

Pulling away, he studied her. She'd changed some in the time that she had been in LA. She had grown up.

The last time Martin had seen her was her college graduation, just before she and Mac- who had once been his best friend- had decided to move out to Los Angeles to get jobs. Mac with the baseball team, Ruthie with a publishing house that was housed there.

The change in Ruthie wasn't exactly physical. Her hair was still the same dark brown curls that Martin loved. Her smile could still brighten his day. When she was sixteen she'd hit a growth spirit and had gotten a few inches taller and had…ahem…_matured_ quite a bit. So any major outward changes had already happened to Ruthie.

No, they were more inward. She seemed so much more adult like. Like she had seen, and maybe done, things that had slowly eroded away the innocence that had once been wrapped around her like a blanket.

"How have you been?" She asked. The light in her eyes, the one that had once given so much life to her face, had disappeared.

"Good," he said, nodding slowly. "I'm working as an architect at a firm in Washington right now."

"That's great." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What's up with you?" He asked, wanting to know what was happening between her and Mac.

Martin had to admit, no matter what he said or how he denied it Mac dating Ruthie had been what really caused the split in their friendship.

"I'm working on a new book right now. Or I was." She shook her head. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It was supposed to be kind of like my memoirs, but I don't know anymore." Martin could see the tears threatening to spill over her eyes.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet, suddenly very uncomfortable. The memory of Eric Camden's death came crashing down upon him, ruining the good mood that had overtaken Martin at the sight of Ruthie.

"I'm real sorry about your dad." He said, wishing that he didn't sound so lame.

"It's okay." Ruthie tried to smile, but she seemed unable to do so. "It was his time I guess." She took a deep, shuddering breath, obviously fighting against tears.

Without thinking, Martin wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. His touch must have set something off inside of Ruthie, because a second later she was sobbing loudly into his shoulder.

* * *

So? What did y'all think? Was this chapter worth the wait? Please review and tell me what you thought. I don't know how long it will be before the next chapter comes out, but I'm hoping it won't take nearly as long as it did for this chapter. 


	3. Late Night Snack

Chapter Three

_In Glen Oak, the Camden's are famous for helping those in need, whether they want the help or not. My family has never been sky about offering help to someone in need. _

Through the years some of the helps we've offered has come in the form of taking some people into our home for indefinite lengths of time.

The first of such was Robbie Palmer, an ex-boyfriend of Mary's. Robbie had thought that his girlfriend at the time was pregnant- this was after he and Mary had been broken up for awhile. They had gone to Dad for counseling and had asked him to marry them. But, when it turned out that the whole pregnancy was fake and that Robbie's girlfriend had formulated the whole thing so that he'd marry her, Robbie broke it off. And, in turn, she threw him out of their apartment. My dad felt bad for him, and offered him a place in our house until he got back on his feet.

After Robbie, was Lucy's husband, Kevin Kinkirk. Lucy and Kevin weren't married yet, but Kevin had come out to Glen Oak after meeting Lucy in New York and Mom and Dad offered him the apartment above our garage. Kevin stayed there until he and Lucy were married, then Lucy moved up there with him.

It wasn't too long before we took in another person, this time it was Martin Brewer. His dad was off fighting in Iraq and his aunt was too young and immature to take him in. Not to mention, she was flying out to New York to get a start in the fashion industry. So Martin became part of the family. He stayed with us until his father returned from Iraq and then he and his dad bought a house not far from ours.

Each of these guys became like a member of our family. We loved them, helped them out when they needed it, and generally were just there for them. They were all like brothers to me, looking out for me and treating me like their sister. Sometimes I wished they wouldn't. I did, after all, have more than enough siblings. But it was nice to have them there, to know that one extra person had my back.

Tossing in bed, Ruthie tried to shake the image of seeing her father in the casket. What idiot had ordered an open casket anyway? Ruthie didn't want to see him dead, she didn't want that to be the last image she had of her father. No, she wanted to remember him as he had been. Full of life and constantly moving from one person's problem to another. She didn't want to have to think of him as cold and lifeless, his eyes closed in eternal sleep.

She sat up in bed. It was useless to try and sleep.

Moving slowly down the stairs from the attic bedroom, Ruthie listened to her mother's soft crying behind the master bedroom's closed door. It broke her heart to hear her mom, who once was so strong, weeping and mourning the loss of her husband. Tears pricked at the back of Ruthie's eyes. She wiped them away roughly. Enough tears had been shed at the visitation earlier that night. Her own tears didn't need to be added to the group.

She made her way down stairs into the kitchen. The fridge was open, someone else was up. She looked at the stooped figure shuffling through the contents of the refrigerator.

"Only thing you'll find in there is casseroles." She said tersely. Ruthie had been hoping that she'd be alone. The figure stood and turned to face her. Martin's face was illuminated in the dim light. Ruthie felt a slight tugging at her heart as he looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy and wet with his own tears.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that." He said, throwing a look back at the fridge. Ruthie moved to sit at the counter, tugging her bathrobe tighter around her. She felt suddenly vulnerable and naked in front of him.

Martin closed the fridge, a jug of milk in his hand. He moved to a cupboard and pulled down two glasses. Pouring the milk into them he handed one to Ruthie and took one for himself. He sat beside her, his leg bumping against hers.

"Milk's not much without cookies." she said, hurriedly jumping up and heading to the cupboard that housed the cookies. The brief touch of Martin's leg against hers had startled Ruthie. And she didn't like to be startled.

Ruthie prized herself on being calm and unemotional when she had to be. She could keep her face a mask under the most pressures of circumstances. It was the only way to survive the snakes that lived in the publishing world. But now, at home, around the people she loved, her mask was slipping; melting beneath the warmth of family love.

She had the cookies in her hand, but she didn't want to return to her seat. Sitting beside Martin, feeling him there and knowing that she had been so cruel as to reject him those years ago was too painful.

Forcing herself to return to her seat, Ruthie placed the cookies in front of both of them and took one out of the bag. Dunking it into her milk, she looked at Martin out of the corner of her eye. How could she have been so stupid as to pick Mac over Martin? She should have known what she was getting herself into. Mac had always been too into girls for his own good, whereas Martin had been laid back, content on letting a relationship happen and not pursuing a girl. Ruthie should have known better than to be blinded by Mac's charm and good looks and refuse Martin's sensibility and easy going nature.

Unbidden, the memory of that day, the day after her high school graduation, came back.

Her family had thrown her a party, inviting all her friends; Mac and Martin included. Ruthie had known that over the years, especially during her relationship with Vincent, that the two had developed feelings for her. But she hadn't really been interested then. She had had a boyfriend, Vincent, and after their relationship ended she had sworn off boys for awhile. Then that day happened.

_"Hey, Ruthie, can I talk to you?" Mac appeared by her side, shifting from one foot to the other as he looked at her nervously. Ruthie looked over at Martin, who she'd been talking to. She could sense that there was something Martin wanted to say to her, something that he wanted to ask her. But he didn't have the nerve to say it. She took in the look that Martin shot at Mac, the glare burning right into his friend._

_"Um…" she caught Martin's eye. He sighed and hung his head. She took that as her sign. "Yeah sure."_

_"Great." Mac grinned and took her hand, leading her from the backyard into the kitchen. Annie was in there, getting together any last minute food items for the barbecue. She barely looked up as Mac led Ruthie into the living room, and out of ear shot._

_"So um…" He looked down at his feet, which were scuffing the hardwood floor. "Congratulations." _

"Thanks." Ruthie said slowly, wondering why he had to talk to her so desperately. She had a small clue, after all, he had been dropping hints every time she saw him during his breaks from college the past year.

"Is there anything else?" She asked.

"Uh…" Mac looked scared. Ruthie'd never seen him that way, it was kinda cute. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"Yeah," he said, "I was wondering if you'dgooutwithhme." He spoke quickly, his words jumbled together.

"What?" She thought she knew what he'd said, but she wanted to be certain.

"I was wondering if…" he took a deep breath, "you'd go out with me." He looked at her hopefully, his eyes shining with a feeling that Ruthie had never seen before, except for in one other man's eyes.

"Oh," she couldn't say she was exactly surprised, but his words had kind of caught her off guard. "Sure, yeah I'd love to."

"Really?" He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Really." She smiled. Before she knew it, Mac had leaned down and kissed her.

Ruthie recalled the numerous kisses that Mac had given her over the years. Their relationship had lasted through college and a few years after. But it wasn't without its troubles. Mac had things he wanted from a girl, and Ruthie was only willing to go so far. She had set boundaries around their relationship, telling Mac just how far he could push her without her dumping him. And he had stayed within those boundaries, for the most part. They'd broken up a few times before, but a sweet word from him had always put their relationship back on track.

Ruthie wasn't really sure why she kept taking him back. Sure she loved Mac, but her feelings for him had never really been strong. Not even in the beginning. There had always been that little nagging voice in the back of her head, reminding her of the one she had passed up for this rocky relationship.

Her mind brought up the memory of what happened after Mac kissed her.

Ruthie searched Martin out. It wasn't easy, not with all the family members and friends that were crowded into the backyard and part of Lucy and Kevin's yard (they had bought the house next door to Annie and Eric and had torn down the fence separating the two houses). But, finally, she found him piling condiments onto his burger.

"You'll never believe what just happened." She said, gripping his arm tightly in her hands. Martin looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. She could see the small trace of hurt her leaving him to talk to Mac had caused. But she ignored it.

"What?" He asked.

"Mac asked me out. And then…he kissed me." She said giddily. To be honest, she wasn't all that excited, or not as excited as she pretended to be. Something inside of her just had to rub it in to Martin, however, that Mac had asked her first and that Martin had missed his chance. She wanted to gloat over him. She knew Martin had feelings for her, and that he had been trying to do the very thing that Mac had done, and she wanted him to feel the same way she had every time she saw him with another girl.

Ruthie had always harbored a crush for Martin, even when she was with Vincent. And it always tore her up to see him with someone else. Now, it was her turn to make him feel that way.

"That's," she saw the hurt, the anger in his eyes, "that's great, Ruthie." He didn't say anything else to her, simply walked away.

"So…" Martin's voice broke through the memory, bringing Ruthie crashing back down to earth. "How's Mac?" She could hear the scorn in his voice. After all these years, had he truly not forgotten the hurt, had he not gotten over his feelings for her?

She stared guilty at her milk.

"I don't know," she said, "I broke up with him a few weeks ago." She could feel Martin looking at her now. She glanced up and met his gaze, grateful for the darkness that hid the blush that crept up her cheeks.

"You did?" He looked stunned…and hopeful.

"Yeah," Ruthie shook her head, "it just wasn't working between us anymore." She didn't want to tell him about Mac sleeping around. She didn't want Martin to have that ammunition to use against her.

"Oh." That was all he said. Ruthie looked at him, gazing into the dark, trying to read his thoughts. He was silent. They both sat there, lost in their own thoughts.

"I should go back to bed." Martin broke the silence, jumping off the stool and putting his glass in the sink. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Ruthie's mind flashed to the impending funeral.

"Yeah," she said, suddenly feeling very tired, "yeah it is." Martin moved back towards her. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. The sensations running through Ruthie shocked her, but not more than Martin's kissing her did. In all their years as friends, Martin had never done more than hug her, and even that had been a bit weird. But there he was, his lips warm against her skin. And suddenly, it wasn't her forehead that Ruthie wished he was kissing.

"Night, Ruthie." Martin said, pulling away quickly. It was almost like he could read her thoughts.

"Night." She said, dazed as he headed out of the kitchen and out towards the garage apartment where he was staying until after the funeral. Still in a daze, Ruthie headed up to her own room, her fingers playing against the bit of skin that Martin's lips had touched.

* * *

Well, what did y'all think? I hope you all are enjoying this story. I haven't been receiving very many reviews on this fic so I don't know if y'all want me to continue. How about I do this, if I don't get let's say…ten reviews on this chapter then I will not be updating this story. Do you think y'all can meet that? I hope so, 'cause I like writing this. Anyways, please tell me what you thought. 


	4. A Dark Day

Chapter Four

The dreary, rain gray sky seemed to fit the day perfectly. A light drizzle fell over the ground, soaking into the earth and dampening the clothing of those standing outside the tent that covered the coffin and immediate family.

Ruthie fidgeted on the hard, plastic chair. It was uncomfortable and her butt was quickly growing sore. With surprisingly clear eyes, she looked around at the mourners that had gathered. Nearly the whole town had showed up to mourn the death of one of their finest ministers. Her gaze lingered on Martin, who stood, hands clasped in front of him and eyes staring stoically ahead, just to the left of the coffin. He was a pallbearer, and looked stunningly handsome in his somber suit and tie.

The minister's words floated over Ruthie, never quite reaching her ears. She felt guilty, thinking of Martin when she should be focusing on her father's death. Her mind would not focus on the present, however, and continually flicked back to the night before when Martin had so gently kissed her forehead. The kiss had played out over and over in her mind, each time his lips moving closer and closer to her mouth until they were locked in a heavy make-out session.

A heated blush crept up her cheeks. Ruthie ducked her head, letting her loose curls tumble down to hide her face. She prayed that if anybody noticed her flushed cheeks, that they would attribute the color to the humid weather. And, indeed, it was quite warm out. Ruthie could feel the sweat trickling down her back, causing her black dress shirt to stick uncomfortably to her skin.

The words of Psalm 23 filled her ears: _The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet water, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. _

Typical funeral words. Ruthie felt a sense of rage within her. Could the stupid minister not come up with something more original than the Funeral Psalm, as Ruthie had branded it. Was he so unimaginative that he had to use the same Psalm that everyone else used? Eric Camden deserved better than those words. He deserved his own, original words of departure from this world.

A tear slipped, unbidden down her cheek, cooling her heated skin. She shouldn't be feeling this way. She shouldn't be angry, but reminiscent of the time she had with her dad, and thankful that he was now with his Father in Heaven.

She looked up at the coffin. The dark, rich wood was beautiful, but its purpose was dark. Ruthie felt a darkening in her soul. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to get away, to be free of all the sadness and tears.

Her eyes shifted to Martin once more. She would much rather think of him, of kissing him, than of burying her father. Guilt, once again, clenched within her stomach. How disrespectful could she be?

Annie was crying two chairs away, Lucy and Matt on either side of her, their arms around her. Ruthie studied her family, taking in each one's own private grief. Her mother wasn't ashamed to show the tears that she had for the man she'd been married to for so long. Ruthie envied her, she envied the freedom to show emotion that Annie Camden had. She could never be so free. Her eyes flickered to Matt. He was sitting as stoic as she, his eyes distant. Ruthie wondered what he was thinking about. His lips moved, but no words came out. There was the familiar forming of one word: amen. He had been praying. His wife Sarah sat beside him, one slim hand on his arm, desperate to comfort. Their son sat on her lap, gazing animatedly at the people surrounding them. Lucy sat with tears in her eyes, a tissue in the same hand that held tightly to Kevin's. She was staring at the coffin, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks tear stained, as if by simply wishing she could make their father rise from his eternal sleep. Savannah sat on Kevin's lap, Lucy's stomach too large to let the little girl sit on her lap. On Ruthie's other side sat Mary. There was a deep look of longing and sorrow in her eyes. Ruthie sensed that she was thinking about her ex-husband, Carlos, and their son (who she had relinquished custody of when she and Carlos got divorced). Sam and DAvid were sitting beside Mary. They seemed to be the only familymembers actually _listening_ to the minister. It was as if they recieved comfort from his words.The only one who was missing from their family, was Simon, who they had been unable to track down.

Ruthie closed her eyes and bowed her head obediently when the minister called for prayer. She listened to the words, but didn't quite take in their meaning. Anger towards Simon had overtaken her as she watched her family. Why had he left their family? Why would he distance himself from the people who had loved him unconditionally since birth? Ruthie thought him selfish and childish. He didn't even have the decency to show up for his own father's funeral. What did that say about him?

"Amen." She whispered dutifully, echoing all of those gathered together. The service was over, and the coffin was being lowered into the rich soil. Ruthie approached the casket, watching its slow decent into the ground. Plucking a flower from one of the arrangements brought by one of the mourners, she held it between her fingers. Closing her eyes tightly, and praying for strength to get through the rest of this day, she let the flower drop. It landed softly on the top of the casket, its bright yellow color a bright contrast against the mahogany wood.

"Good-bye Daddy."

* * *

People were in and out of the house all day, dropping off casseroles and offering their condolences. All Ruthie could think of, however, was that these people were glad that it was not one of their own loved ones that had been buried that day. 

It was too much for her to take and, after an hour or two of the endless string of people, she had sought solace in her old bedroom.

Now, tucked away in her room, a book open in her lap, and the quilt wrapped tightly around her, Ruthie sat lost in her thoughts. The page of her book hadn't been turned in the last thirty minutes, but her eyes couldn't seem to focus on the words.

The sound of Savannah and John (Matt's son) playing wafted up the stairs. Ruthie envied them, their innocence. They seemed not to know what was happening, or about the tragedy that had overcome the house.

An overwhelming sadness engulfed Ruthie, and it was all she could do to keep from breaking out in tears. The book she'd been trying to read lay forgotten on her lap as she stared at the opposite end of the room, her gaze burning into the wall as she tried to gain composure.

There was a knock on the door, but the sound seemed distant and remote.

"Hey," the soft voice broke through Ruthie's thoughts. She looked up, her eyes meeting a pair of warm, hazel eyes.

"Hi." She tore her gaze from Martin's and looked down at the book she held.

"I thought you could use something to eat." He held out a plate laden with food. The sight and smell of it made Ruthie nauseas.

"I'm not hungry." She muttered, drawing the quilt tighter around her body.

"You haven't eaten anything all day." He sat on the bed across from hers, his eyes boring intently into the side of her head. Ruthie refused to look at him.

"I haven't had much of an appetite."

She heard the springs squeal on the other bed, then felt the mattress shift beneath her as Martin settled down in front of her. His fingers were gentle and soft as he forced her chin up. Her eyes met his, and the tears would no longer be kept back. They rushed from her eyes hot and aching. She felt Martin's arms wrap around her, holding her tightly. It was the second time he had held her in just two days.

Ruthie hated to admit it, but there was something about Martin that put her at ease enough to let the mask slip, even just a little bit. She savored the feel of his arms, liking the way that she felt so safe and secure within his hold.

When her tears had ended, Ruthie gently pushed away from him, afraid to be in his arms any longer than she needed to be. It was fine for Martin to hold her when she needed comforting, but any long than necessary was simply, in Ruthie's mind, asking for trouble.

"Thank you." She whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"For what?"

"For…for just being here." She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his straight on. There was something in Martin's gaze that unnerved her, and she wished that there were more distance between them.

He smiled gently and lay a soothing hand on her arm.

"That's what friend's are for."

Friends. What was it about that word that didn't set right with Ruthie?

* * *

Y'all rock! I asked you to give me ten reviews and y'all did it. Now I know that you guys want this fic to continue. I was going to keep writing it even if I didn't get the reviews, simply because I'm having sucha great time creating this story, but the reviews really helped me to focus my muse. Lol. Anyways, please review and tell me what you thought of this chapter. 


	5. Saying Goodbye

I just want to thank all of you who have reviewed so far. You guys rock! And you give me inspiration to continue with this fic.

Chapter Five

Morning sunlight broke through the curtains and splayed across the floor and over top of the lump beneath the bed's quilt. Ruthie moaned and rolled onto her side, her eyes tightly closed against the early sun's rays. Her head was aching and her body was sore. She felt, for all the world, as if she had just run a marathon. Through slited eyes, she looked at the glowing red numbers on her clock. Six-thirty. She groaned, and placed a hand over her face.

It was too early. Always it was too early. Why couldn't she just stay in bed? Her dad was dead. Matt and Mary had lives they needed to get back to and they would be leaving that afternoon, which would leave Ruthie alone with her mom and the twins. She wasn't ready for that. Sure she could go home, but what was the point? No matter where she went the pain and hollow feeling inside of her would simply travel along.

Aware that sleep would not be returning anytime soon, Ruthie stumbled out of bed and down into the deserted kitchen. Opening the cupboard and looking at the cereal there, Ruthie felt not even the smallest inkling of an appetite. Without really thinking, she shuffled out the door, into the garage, and up the stairs.

The door to the garage apartment was open, and Ruthie walked up into the room. Martin stood, his back to her, at the bed. A suitcase was open in front of him and he was ruffling through its contents. To Ruthie's delight, Martin was shirtless and she could clearly see the muscles moving in his strong, sculpted back. His shoulders were broad and muscled from years of playing baseball. It was a good thing Ruthie wasn't the swooning type, or else she would have fallen backwards down the stairs.

A sad sigh escaped her lips as Martin pulled a shirt on. The sound must have caught his attention, because he turned around and his eyes met Ruthie's. She blushed hottily at being caught.

"Hey, Ruthie," his smile was slightly embarrassed, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long." She replied hastily. Martin turned back and closed his suitcase.

"Are you leaving?" She asked, hoping that the answer was no.

"Yeah. I only had a few days off. Besides, I have this big project I'm working on and the deadline is coming up soon." Ruthie felt her heart fall into her stomach. Everyone was leaving her, leaving her alone with a grief stricken mother and two brothers who had fallen into a melancholy state.

"Oh." She said quietly, not wanting Martin to detect her disappointment. But he seemed to have heard it.

"Here." He opened his suitcase and drew out a pen and notebook. "Here is my address and telephone number. If you need anything just give me a call, and feel free to stop by when you have time." He ripped out the paper that he had written on and handed it to Ruthie.

"Thanks." She forced herself to smile and held onto the paper tightly. There was no way she was going to risk losing that paper. He smiled at her, a sadness there in his eyes.

"I'll see ya 'round." He pulled the suitcase over his shoulder and hugged Ruthie tightly against him.

"You bet." She was struggling against tears. Why was it that whenever Martin held her, Ruthie wanted to break down?

* * *

Driving out of Glen Oak, Martin sent up a prayer for the Camdens, especially Ruthie. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt something for the young woman, he always had. There was no more denying it. Martin was in love with Ruthie.

His mind wandered back to that last hug he had given her. She had felt so perfect in his arms, as if made to fit there. Martin wished that he had been brave enough to tell her how he felt, but, as usual, he was too afraid to say a word. The feel of her skin against his lips was still vivid in his mind, and he wished that he could have simply had the nerve to crush his mouth against hers, like he had wanted to do.

Shaking his head, Martin focused on the road. He had a long drive ahead of him.

* * *

Ruthie slung her suitcase into the back of her car and slammed the trunk closed.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" She asked, turning to face Annie, who stood on the curb with the twins.

"I'll be fine. Besides, Lucy's right next door and I have Sam and David with me." Ruthie could see the tears that threatened to spill out of her mother's eyes. She felt guilty leaving her in this condition, but she couldn't stay in the house any longer. Ruthie was feeling suffocated there, and she needed to get away.

She kissed the twins and hugged Annie tightly.

"Call me if you need anything." She said, her mother's arms wrapped around her tightly.

The hug, Ruthie couldn't help but notice, was so much different from those Martin gave her. When he hugged her he was trying to give comfort, but when Annie held her, she was the one seeking comfort.

"Bye, Mom." She said, stepping away and getting into her car. With one last look and wave, Ruthie took off down the road, Martin's number tucked safely into her pocket.

* * *

Alright, so it was an incredibly short chapter, but now it's time to get into the good part of the story. Look forward to more Martin/ Ruthie interaction, and maybe even a reappearance by Mac. Please review and tell me what you thought. 


	6. The Times They Are A Changing

Sorry it took me so long to update this. I kinda had a little case of writer's block and couldn't figure out what the heck I wanted to happen in this story. Anyways, I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

Chapter Six

_Sometimes I felt stifled within my family. I was the youngest girl, slightly ignored, always over-protected, and sometimes feeling lost and not knowing what my place was in the family. Already my parents had a daughter that had screwed up her life and a daughter that had the perfect life. So, why did they need me? What purpose did I have in our family? What daughter was I supposed to be? _

Ruthie sipped her coffee, savoring the hot brew as it slid over her tongue and down her throat, burning just slightly. The bitter taste was just what she needed to wake up after a fitful night's sleep. Running a hand through her hair, she sat down at the kitchen table and shuffled through the newspaper that sat in front of her.

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and life was slowly going back to normal for Ruthie. She had met with her editors and, though they were tentative, they gave her the go ahead for her book. The pages had been coming fast and furious after Eric's funeral. Ruthie wanted to hurry and write down every memory she had of her dad before the memories began to fade as memories have a tendency to do.

She flipped to the sports section of the paper, and Mac's face stared back at her. A longing ripped through her heart. They had been together so long, it was hard to imagine her life without him. But Ruthie knew that the relationship would have fallen apart if they had gone on much longer. With Mac it was always something different. He was never content to just be. He always needed to be doing something important. And he always needed to push Ruthie to advance their relationship. Mac didn't want marriage, he just wanted the benefits that came with marriage. Always he pushed her, driving her to the edge before Ruthie's morals kicked in and she said no. It had finally gotten too much for him, and he had sought out release in other places. Ruthie could hardly recount how many times Mac had slept with another woman, and she was fairly certain that there were even more than the ones she knew about.

With a sigh, she closed the paper. Standing up, she stretched out the kink in her back and headed into the living room. Her eyes instantly fell to the piece of paper that sat on the coffee table beside her laptop. Martin's number. She hadn't called it yet, wasn't sure that she should. After everything that had happened between them all those years ago, Ruthie couldn't believe that Martin was setting himself up to get hurt again. Not that she wanted to hurt him, but Ruthie knew the truth. She had a habit of sabotaging her relationships, maybe not consciously, but somehow, someway, she always sabotaged herself.

She picked up the paper and studied it. His phone number was written in a neat row, the numbers perfectly formed. Just below his number, in the same neat writing, sat his address. An overwhelming urge to suddenly jump into her car and drive up to Washington filled Ruthie. It filled her so greatly that her hands shook from the thrill of it.

_No,_ she told herself with a shake of her head, _I can't do this._

With a force of will she didn't know she possessed, Ruthie headed into the kitchen and buried the paper in a drawer loaded to the brim with junk. There. She would leave the paper there and forget that it even existed. She had messed up her own life already, she didn't need to mess up Martin's.

* * *

"Yo, Brewer, Hackman wants to see you in his office." Martin looked up from the sketches he'd been working on.

"Alright," he said, brushing the eraser dust off the large paper. "I'll be right there."

"Actually man, you might want to go now." His co-worker and friend, Carson, said. "Hackman looks pretty pissed."

Martin groaned. Oliver Hackman was not a man that you wanted to cross. He had a temper that was famous for being explosive and irrational.

"Thanks, Carson." Martin said, standing up and pulling on his suit jacket. If he was going into a meeting with Hackman he needed to look professional.

Oliver Hackman sat in his office behind his large mahogany desk, leaning back in his chair with hands steepeled in front of him. His gray mustache quivered with each twitch of his mouth, a sure sign that he was not pleased. The same steely blue eyes that had first paralyzed Martin with fear when he'd been interviewing for a job at Hackman Architecture four years ago stared at him with the same sharp shrewdness of a man that had seen much in his lifetime and didn't fool around.

"Take a seat." Mr. Hackman said as Martin shut the office door behind him. Martin took the proffered seat across the desk from his boss.

Uncomfortable under the formidable gaze of Mr. Hackman, Martin shifted in his seat, waiting for the older man to speak.

"Mr. Brewer," he said just as Martin was beginning to think that the silence would never end, "you've been with this company for quite some time now."

Martin, not knowing if he was supposed to reply to this statement or not, simply nodded.

"And in your time here," Mr. Hackman continued, "you've shown yourself to be a talented young man. I've often thought that you had the talent to someday run your own company."

The conversation had taken a turn that Martin hadn't expected. What was Mr. Hackman talking about? Where the heck was this conversation going?

"You're probably wondering why I called you in here." It was as if the man could read his mind!

"I'm not one to beat around the bush, so I'm just gonna come out and say this. Jeffery Dillinger is a moron."

"Sir?" Martin was obviously confused. Beyond confused, actually. He was baffled. What the heck did Jeffery Dillinger, Martin's top rival at the firm, have to do with anything?

"Dillinger bumbled one of the biggest accounts this company has had in quite some time and I had to fire him. Now I've found myself without an architect on the Mason account."

Martin perked up. The Mason account was a huge account. He had been vying for that account since the day Mr. Hackman announced that they won the bid. But Dillinger had gotten the job, leaving Martin, in a way, heartbroken. That account could have been his big break. Now, Hackman was telling him that he might have a shot at it once more. Martin's day couldn't have gotten any better.

"I want you packed and on a plane to LA in three hours." Hackman was saying, bringing Martin back down to earth. "You're going to meet with Jacob Mason and pitch him your ideas on plans."

Silence fell over the two once more. Martin couldn't find the words to express how he felt right then. The Mason account. Wow. It was like a dream come true.

* * *

Woohoo, another chapter finished. The stage is set now. Soon Ruthie and Martin will meet again and Mac will re-enter the picture. What drama awaits our lovelorn couple? Just wait and see.

PS. Review, review, review!

PPS. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far. You guys totally ROCK!


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